


The End of a Day

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: (but minor h/c), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I lost today,” Connor mumbles into Oliver’s skin.</p>
<p>The “I know” goes unspoken. Instead, Oliver simply pulls Connor closer, presses tighter. Turning to kiss to Connor’s temple, Oliver breathes in deep, drawing Connor in, and lets his warm exhale flow out through Connor’s hair and down the line of his neck.</p>
<p>+</p>
<p>A scene from Domestic Coliver</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of a Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr and inspired by the last prompt of [this post.](http://wearealsoboats.tumblr.com/post/109145997172)
> 
> Hope you enjoy,  
> -Jules xoxo

Connor lets the door fall closed behind him and leans back against it. The quiet and dark of the apartment is a comfort as he tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. Breathing in, long and deep, he waits for the relief of home to overtake him. This horrible, miserable, wreck of a day is over.

“Hey,” Oliver says warmly from the kitchen, poking his head out from around the fridge. “You’re home.”

“You’re up,” Connor replies, his tone weary. Pushing off the door, he walks over to set the banker’s box of files and his briefcase down on the counter and shrugs out of his coat to throw it over one of the stools. The light from under the microwave casts a small glow in the kitchen but, except for some streetlight spilling in through the drapes, the rest of the apartment is shrouded in darkness. “Thought you were going to bed.” They’d been texting earlier while Connor was stuck at the office and Connor had stopped responding hours ago when he’d told Oliver head to bed and not wait up.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Oliver doesn’t mention that the worry kept him up. The tone of Connor’s texts had seemed off, too tired and broken, and his concern mounted as the hour grew later and later, keeping him awake in their bed. “How’d it go today?”

Connor just shakes his head in defeat and walks over to wrap himself up in Oliver. His arms curl around Oliver’s middle to press their bodies close and his hands grab fistfuls of Oliver’s shirt to cling to. Connor lightly presses his exhausted eyes into the crook of Oliver’s shoulder and nuzzles his face into Oliver’s neck. Oliver’s arms wrap around Connor’s shoulders. One hand going to the back of Connor’s neck to anchor him close while the other lightly runs up and down the line of Connor’s back, gently soothing the tense muscles along his spine. Connor breathes in, long and deep, the wonderful mixture of laundry detergent and soap and _Oliver_.

After a time, Connor turns his face a little and his lips press against Oliver’s skin, feeling the faint drum of Oliver’s pulse against them. Oliver stops running a hand down Connor’s back to slips it under his suit jacket and tug Connor’s shirt out of his pants. Once the shirt’s free, Oliver presses his palm flat against the small of Connor’s back, drawing them just ever so much closer. Neither action is done with the intent to start something, take things further. It’s just the need, the reassurance, the weight of skin against skin.

Connor isn’t sure how long they stand there, holding each other. Five minutes. Ten. An hour. A day. Something as inconsequential as time doesn’t matter when they are like this. Nothing matters when they’re like this. When they are like _this_ , surrounding and completing each other, they are whole. Safe and beloved and cherished.

“I lost today,” Connor mumbles into Oliver’s skin.

The “I know” goes unspoken. Instead, Oliver simply pulls Connor closer, presses tighter. Turning to kiss to Connor’s temple, Oliver breathes in deep, drawing _Connor_ in, and lets his warm exhale flow out through Connor’s hair and down the line of his neck.

Connor burrows in deeper and clings tighter, finally feeling the weight of the day beginning to ease. This, all of this right here with Oliver’s heart beating sure and strong against his own, _this_ is home.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
